


Spines And A Tail

by panpinecone



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barbed Penis, Cat/Human Hybrids, Genital Torture, Hand Jobs, Intimidation, Kemonomimi, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Human Genitalia, Overstimulation, Roughness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the baggage that comes with being a cat-human is purely beneficial. No one ever talks about the downsides. (Written for a prompt from mgs_kink on Dreamwidth.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spines And A Tail

**Author's Note:**

> AU where a rare—but not unheard of—genetic variation causes some humans to be born with animal characteristics.
> 
> The state of consent could be interpreted as dubious.

Ocelot’s tail lazily curled up towards John, chest rumbling with the strength of his purring. If he’d known John had no problems with his feline anatomy, they might’ve gotten to this point sooner.

Or perhaps not. John could be rather slow on the uptake when it came to these things. But what did it matter now? Ocelot had more important matters to focus on. Specifically, the way John was firmly pumping into him, holding him down and messily kissing him.

He doubted that last part would have been half as nice without his whiskers. Years of trying, and Ocelot had never been able to grow proper facial hair. Right when he'd started thinking his inhuman genes were the problem, the seemingly impossible had finally happened. Not long after, he'd realized that what first appeared to be ordinary scruff actually doubled as yet another of his feline features, though thankfully not nearly as delicate as actual cat whiskers. Sensitive enough to be useful in his line of work, it was something he'd greatly come to appreciate, as it gave him an edge over the other—fully human—agents. But unforeseen to Ocelot, it apparently also had another benefit: Improving kissing.

At first, one of Ocelot’s worries had been the tongue issue. How could it _not_ be an issue, when it was coated in hundreds of miniscule barbs completely foreign to human ones? And so Ocelot had tentatively brought it into the mix, ready to withdraw it at a moment’s notice from John. But evidently, John didn’t mind very much. After some initial hesitation, he’d carried on kissing Ocelot, occasionally licking at the tip of his tongue, but otherwise leaving it unmentioned.

Everything else was par for the course. John already knew about his tail and ears; he saw them every day. The purring, though not as noticeable, definitely hadn’t escaped his attention either. Those, as well as Ocelot's other inhuman characteristics, weren’t exactly news to anyone on Mother Base. He was a cat-human and everybody knew it.

But what nobody knew, at least not definitively, was the state of Ocelot’s genitalia. He had no doubt that a fair portion of the base imagined he’d have a kitty dick to match all his other kitty attributes. And they wouldn’t be wrong. But that didn’t mean they had any idea of everything it entailed.

Masturbating was, quite literally, a pain. The penile spines, though merely a nuisance at first, soon became the bane of his palm, chafing it to the point where he couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the ache. His hands, though human in appearance, were unusually sensitive to everything from touch to temperature. Wearing gloves helped him cope in his day-to-day activities, but didn’t remotely help when it came to getting himself off, the spines constantly catching on the leather regardless of the amount of lube he used. Truth be told, there _were_ specialized items he could seek out, but the idea never appealed to him. If he was going to that much trouble to get off, why not just stick a dildo up his ass and be done with it?

And so that was exactly what he’d been doing.

Personal problems aside, someone knowing about his dick versus actually seeing it— Well, there was a world of difference. Despite his initial unease, Ocelot had stripped down and let John see just how extensive his feline characteristics were. To his surprise, John appeared unaffected by the sight, only asking if Ocelot was going to get on the bed or not.

From that point, things had progressed smoothly, John prepping Ocelot and sliding in, fucking him steadily and predictably. Really, the whole thing was all he could’ve hoped for and more. He was having the absolute time of his life. But then...

Why wasn’t he getting off?

They’d been at it for a pretty long time, and though John seemed to have endless stamina, Ocelot was pretty sure they both should’ve come a while ago. He absently kneaded at John’s shoulders while thinking the situation over. Was it maybe overexcitement? Finally fucking John, too good to be true, suspension of arousal? But no, that was somewhat farfetched. What if—

And then John was pouring out more lube and derailing Ocelot's thought processes by roughly grasping at his cat dick, working it mercilessly. It was the best handjob he'd had in, well, forever. Not having to deal with a slowly chafing hand did wonders, and Ocelot’s purring intensified, the vibrations growing louder in the cramped room.

They carried on like that for a while, Ocelot beginning to wonder if John’s hand was growing sore. From the look of it, though, he was content to continue at his pace, jerking Ocelot off and fucking him in tandem. It seemed his calloused hands were infinitely more suited to the task than Ocelot’s own too sensitive ones.

It wasn’t until more time passed that Ocelot’s dick began aching. He _needed_ to get off, his elusive release becoming more and more frustrating, but he also needed less friction. While pleasant at first, the continued groping of John’s hand had grown uncomfortable, and Ocelot began hoping he’d come any moment now, freeing him from the insistent touch.

But as the minutes passed, the discomfort radiating from his dick only intensified, well on its way to overpowering the little pleasure he still felt. Had John _really_ been fondling him long enough for that to happen? Or were cat dicks somehow more delicate? He could ask John to stop...

No. He was determined to come by John’s hand, pain be damned. He could wait it out. Surely the overstimulation would wrench an orgasm from him. Eventually.

Ocelot clenched his jaw, grinding his barbed tongue against the roof of his mouth and hoping it was enough to distract him from the mounting agony down below. His tail swished from side to side, fur bristling as his purring sputtered out. He could still manage to come, right?

_Right?_

He knew something was off as soon as John’s rhythm faltered. Unsure what had changed, he studied John’s face for any kind of giveaway. Why was he looking above Ocel—?

Oh. His ears. He’d been so wrapped up in stopping himself from crying out that he’d forgotten about them. Normally, his control over his ears was stellar, but now? They’d been a dead giveaway for John, who’d begun glancing down around himself, clearly trying to find the cause of Ocelot’s noticeable detachment.

He stared down at his hand, still clutching Ocelot’s dick, and slowly let it go.

“Ocelot,” he growled, voice rugged, anger coursing through each vowel. “What is this?”

Ocelot chanced a peek down.

It wasn’t as bad as all that, really. His dick normally got pretty flushed, even if now a more apt description was ‘mangled’. But on the positive side of things, his skin hadn't been rubbed _completely_ raw. Although it did feel like it...

Ocelot didn’t get a chance to answer before John continued. “You didn’t say anything,” he stated, tone accusatory. “Why?”

The weight of his glare was enough to set Ocelot on edge, and his tail involuntarily curled around himself, forming a makeshift barrier against the ferocious tenacity of John’s indignation. “I... I was so sure that I’d come. And I didn’t want to interrupt you.” Even as the words left his lips, he found them shallow and inadequate, a poor justification of irresponsible behavior.

“I _can’t_ notice _everything_ ,” hissed John, bringing his face mere inches away from Ocelot’s. Practically bent in half, Ocelot wasn’t able to do anything aside from wrapping his tail tighter around himself and meeting John’s scowl as best he could.

“If I’m fucking you”—a thrust for emphasis—“then I expect you to be able to tell me what’s going on. I should be able to trust you with something as simple as that”—and another—“right?”

Ocelot felt the tension between them begin to reach its breaking point. It wasn’t often that John got this way around those he trusted. But when he did? Those times were some of the most exhilarating things Ocelot could remember experiencing. Considering his occupation, the sentiment spoke volumes.

Even so, none of the previous times could compare to this, facing John’s anger head-on while mid-fuck. Ocelot could barely contain himself, and that was before John broke the silence once more.

“You can speak. So use your words,” he levelled at Ocelot, reaching a hand up towards his feline ears. “I don’t want to be relying on _these_ —”

As soon as John’s fingers closed around the ear and gave it a sharp tug, Ocelot let out a yowl, finally reaching his climax and arching off the bed. All at once, he felt a swell of relief, body relaxing in the onslaught of his long-awaited release. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened in the following moments, other than John continuing to thrust into him with renewed vigor, entirely too blissed out to pay attention or even care. But as the feeling of contentment faded away, all that remained in its wake was the pain from before, now at the forefront and a hundred times worse without any pleasure to detract from it.

Each of John’s thrusts jostled his battered kitty dick from side to side, further bruising the tender organ, and Ocelot found himself wishing it would end. Having John play with his cock was _not worth this_.

Somehow, miraculously, John’s movements stiffened, and in the next few moments he silently came, abruptly pulling out and lying down beside Ocelot, taking a couple minutes to regain his breath.

Ocelot let himself relax, relieved it was over. Absently, he kneaded at the mattress, ears perking up at the sound of John letting out an amused huff.

“What?”

John’s lips twitched into an amused smirk. “You actually sound like a cat when you come,” he said.

Taken aback, Ocelot’s tail gave a small jerk. Unsure of how John meant the comment to come across, he simply conceded, “Well, I _am_ part cat, you know.”

His ears caught a low grumble escape John before he replied, “Still. I wasn’t expecting _that_.”

Ocelot stopped his kneading, tail swishing uncertainly in the ensuing silence. “Would you rather I didn’t?” he eventually asked.

“As long as you’re making some sort of noise, you can sound however you want.”

Ocelot’s tail stilled at the reminder of what he’d done. Specifically, what he _hadn’t_ done. He turned to watch John, who had his eye closed and was completely immobile save for the rise and fall of his chest. Was this to be the first and last time John ever fucked him? Had he forever ruined his chances over one minor error in judgment?

“How’s your hand?”

John didn’t even open his eye, merely replying, “Fine. And you?”

Ocelot glanced down at himself, finding that his dick's flush wasn’t quite so volatile-looking as before. Unfortunately, it still stung, and the slightest movements were terribly irritating. “It’s seen better days,” he quipped.

In the blink of an eye, John reached out his metal hand to grab it. The cool metal was a blessing, lessened only by how tightly the fingers pressed down on the sore skin.

“This won’t be happening again. Right, Ocelot?” John asked, punctuating the question with a squeeze.

Ocelot suppressed a shudder at John’s intensity, then gave a short nod.

“I have your word?”

Why was he so hung up on this? Ocelot could damn well look after himself. Sometimes John’s reprimands made him relive the days of so long ago, when he was practically still a child and John seemed to feel it completely within his right to critique Ocelot’s techniques.

In a way, he hadn’t changed a bit.

Ocelot let out a noise somewhere between a purr and a growl. John’s determination had _always_ been an unstoppable force.

“Yes, Boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: [mgs-kink.dreamwidth.org/757.html?thread=11253](https://mgs-kink.dreamwidth.org/757.html?thread=11253)


End file.
